


MDC Jeans

by MalcolmReynolds



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Cool Marinette, Designer Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Endgame Lukanette, F/M, First Meetings, Flustered Luka Couffaine, Hot Mess Luka Couffaine, Lukanette, Rockstar Luka Couffaine, lukanette endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29279979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalcolmReynolds/pseuds/MalcolmReynolds
Summary: Rockstar Luka Couffaine records a song, in which he mentions his favorite pair of MDC jeans. Marinette sees it and falls in love with the song, but when they meet, Luka falls in love withher.
Relationships: Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 145
Kudos: 198
Collections: 2021 Exchange





	1. Always Lonely, Never Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chrwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrwrites/gifts).



> This is for the LBSC Secret Admirer Valentine exchange. I fell in love with this prompt as soon as I saw it, and have been so excited to write for it!! Chiara, I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it! I didn't _quite_ get this done in time, so you'll get a chapter every couple of days...
> 
> My prompt was: Celebrity AU - Rockstar Luka Couffaine name drops Marinette Dupain Cheng’s fashion line in one of his songs. Fact is, the song is catchy and Marinette loves it. She makes an Instagram story where she’s singing along to it, and damn- Luka didn’t know she was this hot. So he decides to answer her, and on impulse he types in a “Do you want to make out?”, but ends up accidentally sending it/making it public if it’s a picture. You decide what happens next, but know I’d love to see flustered!Luka.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was in her small studio, her other employees having left hours ago, working on some of the more mundane tasks that, as owner, it was her responsibility to get done. A new shipment of fabric had come in that afternoon, and, paperwork completed, she was finally able to get her hands into the riot of colors and textures that had spilled out of the box. While she worked, she was blasting her favorite rocker, Luka Couffaine’s newest album from her laptop. It had just dropped that morning, and she was finally getting to listen to it. 

She had followed him from his earliest days, from even before he broke away from Jagged Stone and struck out on his own, an eclectic mix of wailing guitar and mellow acoustics, the crashing noise of a wicked electric guitar solo followed up by a haunting, acoustic love song. The man had talent, that much even she could tell, and she loved all of his songs.

The deep purple silk slid between her fingers as she pulled out the design it was for. Black leather and violet silk, coming together to form a fanciful evening dress. She was laying the silk across the buttery leather, one of her all-time favorite fabrics she’d bought, running her fingers over the two textures, when Luka’s voice reached the end of the chorus and she froze. Silk and leather forgotten, she dashed over to her computer, where the YouTube video was unaware that her heart had stopped as she frantically tried to back the song up with trembling hands. The computer nearly crashed to the floor as she manically jabbed at it, before taking a deep, calming breath. Hands shaking only slightly, she reached out to pause it, just as he hits the chorus again, and she yanked her hand back.

_Why doesn’t she believe her worth?  
Why does she think he’ll change?  
Can’t she see she deserves the world?  
And my love for her will never age._

_Tonight my heart is lonely  
And nothing is what it seems  
I’ll drown my sorrows in music  
While I’m rocking in my MDC jeans. _

The video was as simple as the song, but Marinette was still mesmerized. Luka was relaxing on a bed, eyes closed, head tilted back against the wall, an acoustic guitar in his lap. He was sitting cross-legged, wearing, as he claimed in the song, a pair of MDC jeans; ones she’d made with custom embroidery. You couldn’t see the stitching, but the blue music note patches under the artfully shredded knees were all the confirmation she needed to know of the ocean-colored snake lazily coiled on the back pocket. 

The shirt was one of hers, too, she noted, idly.

Luka’s face was relaxed in the video, but his voice was raw and full of sadness, and Marnette’s heart ached as she stared at him, singing his sorrows to her alone, until the last quivering note died away and the moment was shattered by an advertisement for the latest in a series of superhero movies, causing Marinette to blink her way back to reality. 

Before the next song could start, Marinette hit the replay button, and hovered, glued to the screen, studying Luka’s hands as they danced across his guitar. By the fourth rewatch, Marinette was singing along to the chorus, as well as snippets from the rest of the song. Eventually, she let her attention be dragged away, listening to the rest of the album, but put ‘her’ song on repeat as she cleaned up her workspace. 

The song, _her_ song, was the first thing that she listened to in the morning and the last thing she listened to at night, drifting off to the sound of Luka Couffaine’s voice pouring out his heartache to her. She played it for her employees, and they’d squealed much as she had, grinning at the shout out to their little company. Traffic on her website had shot up overnight, as people heard her brand called out in the song. 

Even a week later, she was in her workspace, singing along to her song, the one she’s been sad to learn was called _Always Lonely Never Alone_ and not _MDC Jeans_ , when she heard giggling from her employees. Aimee had her hand slapped over her mouth, and it was doing a decent job muffling her snorts of laughter when she noticed that Odette was filming her. She launched into the chorus, along with the recording of Luka, and blew a kiss at the camera, throwing in a wink for good measure as she pointed to the MDC logo on the wall. 

Cheers erupted as the final guitar chords faded away, and Marinette’s employees, Aimee and Odette grinned at Marinette before scurrying back to their own workspaces, smiling. At lunch, the two sat, pouring over Odette’s phone, whispering together and shooting glances at her. Marinette just smiled indulgently at them and concentrated on the silk and leather evening dress she was piecing together. 

Her phone pinged with notifications all afternoon, but Marinette was too in the zone to notice, embroidering a pattern onto the leather bodice of the dress she’d spent the day working on. It was almost finished, just a little beadwork to go, and a hefty commission would be coming her way. She looked around, surprised to find herself alone until she glanced up at the time and nodded. Odette and Aimee were hard workers, people she liked very much and who did an excellent job, but even she couldn’t expect them to be working after 20:00 on a Friday. 

Marinette stretched, loosening the muscles of her back and shoulders, rotating her neck, and feeling a satisfying pop as she stacked her spine straight. Grinning, she hung the dress carefully on its hanger, placing it back inside a garment bag, knowing that Juleka, the model she was making it for, would be excited to see it when she showed her next week. She’d said something about an anniversary dinner and wanting to wow her girlfriend. Marinette’s phone buzzed once again with yet another notification, and she picked it up, idly checking her messages.

Her jaw dropped when she saw how many notifications she had from the MDC Instagram page, cringing when she realized exactly what Odette and Aimee had been working on earlier. They’d posted the video to all the company’s social media sites, with Marinette singing the final verse and chorus of _Always Lonely Never Alone_ , smiling at the camera as she danced along. She’d never be a professional singer, her voice didn’t have the same soul that Luka Couffaine’s voice did, but she could carry a tune, and she didn’t sound half bad. The girls had tagged the post with hashtags for #MDCRocks #MDCSings #MDCJeans #AlwaysLonelyNeverAlone and #LukaCouffaine. 

Many of her followers, but several of his fans had liked the video, which the girls had cleverly added their website, a link back to Luka Couffaine’s song, in addition to pointing out the fact that he was, in fact, wearing an MDC shirt in addition to his MDC jeans in his video. The video was trending, and Marinette was torn between deep embarrassment at her performance, and elation that even _more_ people were checking out her designs. 

Tidying the rest of her work station, Marinette did a quick walkthrough of her studio, checking to make sure everything was put away. She’d be in on her own in the morning, ready to finish up the commission for Juleka, and see what her next thing on her commissions list was. She had a couple of wedding gowns she had been working on, and she wanted to check the status on those, as well as a few other things that needed to be started over the next couple of weeks. 

Circling back to her own station, Marinette shrugged into her coat and slipped her purse over her shoulder. Picking up the phone, it buzzed in her hand, but this time with a text from Odette.

**_OS:_ ** _Check out your insta notifications_  
**_OS:_ ** _Like right now_  
**_OS:_ ** _OMG!_

Frowning at the string of texts from her employee, Marinette opened up Instagram to see that Luka Couffaine had posted a new video. From behind the camera, she heard a female voice. “OK, Lu, play it” Luka Couffaine was sitting there, phone in hand, and at the command of the person taking the video, he started the clip. To her mortification, Marinette heard her own voice coming through the speakers, singing along to his song. She could see the furrow deepen between the rocker’s brows as he listened to her. 

He frowned up at the camerawoman. “She’s not bad, but not a singer, Jule. Why are you showing me….” He trailed off as the video ended, showing Marinette pointing at the MDC logo. “That’s MDC? Fuck, she’s hot. Think she’d make out with me?”

The woman holding the phone cackled. “You know you’re live, dumbass.” Luka’s eyes went wide, and the person recording quickly cut off the stream, the last thing Marinette heard was the woman’s laughter as the screen went black. 

_Luka Couffaine thought she was hot._

The thought swirled around Marinette’s head, and she sat back into her work chair hard enough to send it scooting across the floor. She groped for the phone that had clattered noisily to the desk and tried to pick it up with numb fingers, eventually able to unlock it and text a reply to Odette. 

**_MDC:_ ** _What?!?!_  
**_MDC:_ ** _He saw the video_  
**_MDC:_ ** _I’m either gonna kill you or give you a raise next time I see you_

**_OS:_ ** _He thinks you’re HOT_

Marinette let out a strangled noise as she tucked her phone back into her bag, choosing not to respond to Odette for the moment.

~~~

Luka Couffaine was going to _kill_ his sister. She’d handed him her phone, video all cued up. This wasn’t an unusual thing, she often handed him her phone with videos of up and coming singers, both those trying to go professional and untrained amateurs, new sounds and techniques, anything, really she thought he’d find interesting. She’d also, occasionally, sent him pictures of hot girls, which was somewhat disturbing, especially after they discovered they had similar taste in women. 

This woman had been drop-dead gorgeous. Tiny, but her bare arms were muscular, and her smile was radiant. Her midnight hair had been piled on the top of her head, held in place with a clip. He’d been mesmerized by the way she’d closed her eyes, hands over her heart, head tilted back as if she deeply felt every word of the song. Her smile had blossomed during the chorus, only to become an outright smirk as she’d pointed to her company logo behind her, just as he’d sung about his MDC jeans.

He couldn’t fault her, the woman was talented… those jeans were by far his favorites. He’d been shaken enough when he realized just who the little dynamo on screen was that he’d let that make-out comment slip out, and _of course_ Juleka had to capture it on camera. 

It was one of those things his publicist had suggested, the videos, not random make-outs, when he struggled to connect to people he couldn’t see, Juleka, or one of his other close friends, record him doing everyday things, his reactions to videos, trying new foods, just random things to make him seem more personable. _More human_

Luka groaned. And in a few weeks, he actually had a fitting with MDC for a three-piece suit to wear to that fall’s music gala. How exactly was he going to face her? Dropping his face into his hands, he groaned again. How exactly was he going to let her take his measurements for the suit? He wasn’t sure if he hoped she either canceled on him or passed him off to one of her employees, or whether she handled him herself. 

His face flamed at that last thought. _Damn it Couffaine. Get your mind out of the gutter. The woman is a professional and maybe will have forgotten the fact that you basically propositioned her over the internet._ Luka profoundly hoped that the latter would be the case, but somehow, he highly doubted it.


	2. Awkward First Times

Luka Couffaine stood on the stoop of the tiny workshop where MDC created her designs. The driver idled at the curb in the silver Peugeot hybrid the studio used to shuttle the talent around watching his hesitation with undisguised curiosity. As a moderately well-known musician - Luka never felt comfortable describing himself as a _rock star_ \- people assumed he never had any reason to be nervous or self-conscious about anything. As much as he loved being on stage and connecting with an audience, one on one, Luka was usually a wreck, a fact that he covered fairly well. When he was performing, people were hyped up, and they were happy to be there. One on one, however, you could see immediately when someone made assumptions or rejected you, and he’d dealt with enough of that growing up. 

Breaking into the music industry was different. You either had what it took or you didn’t. If you didn’t, you could go home, work harder and try again. Fortunately for him, he’d had both the natural talent and drive, as well as a lucky break when he was heard playing by Jagged Stone. The label had changed up his look a little, especially when he’d been performing with Jagged, but other than the fact that he’d always dressed for comfort rather than show, _he_ had been enough, and he was eternally grateful for it. He could deal with uncomfortable clothes if it meant he got to follow his passion. 

His _look_ was the reason he was here, today, standing outside the MDC Designs studio, hand hovering over the doorknob, about to face the woman he’d unintentionally propositioned over the internet. It was Juleka’s fault he was in this mess, he decided, then sighed, knowing that he couldn’t, in good conscience, lay the blame at her feet. The reason for the joke had been her fault, but it wasn’t on her that he’d said it. 

He’d been in a bit of a creative slump, mentally exhausted from his latest tour, and hadn’t found inspiration in the normal places. Juleka had laughed and told him he just needed to get laid, but casual hookups really weren’t his thing, and relationships were hard when you left the country for months on end. It had become a running joke between them, with Juleka wondering aloud if any girl Luka found even vaguely attractive would come kiss him out of his funk. The _one time_ Luka had made the joke, naturally, Juleka was filming him. Sighing, Luka ran his hand through his dark hair, then dropping it back down to his side, knowing he was just stalling for time. 

With a final glance back at the driver, who just grinned at him and didn’t even attempt to hide the fact that he was staring - later, in the driver’s report, the man would state that he kept his eyes on Luka until he was safely inside the studio - Luka reached out for the doorknob. It was locked. Which he’d been told in the email he’d received, telling him that she was meeting him on a Saturday so that he wouldn’t have to deal with any of her other employees gawking at him. Considering the circumstances, Luka wasn’t sure if being alone with her made things better or worse. Taking a few deep breaths, Luka straightened his spine and relaxed his shoulders. He rang the doorbell, and he heard a squeak and a crash come from inside, before the music he hadn’t previously noticed - Jagged Stone, how _had_ he missed that? - cut off abruptly, and he heard footsteps scurrying towards the door. 

In front of him stood the girl from the video, MDC herself, hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, at least three different colors of threads trailing from needles stuck through her shirt, and a travel mug of what he could only assume was coffee in one hand. She stared at him, eyes wide, blinking at the sunlight that poured in over his shoulder. He shifted slightly, blocking the sun from her eyes, and she smiled gratefully up at him, leaving Luka the one who was dazzled. 

“Luka Couffaine!” she exclaimed, smile widening as she glanced at her watch. “You’re really, uh, right on time! Come on in!” She offered his driver a friendly wave and stepped back from the door. Luka heard the car’s engine come to life as the driver eased into traffic. 

MDC took another step back and ushered him into the studio, locking the door behind him. The lock gave an ominous thunk as it slid into place, trapping him in with her. He stood there, awkwardly, as she shifted piles of fabric to the side, offering him an apology. “Sorry for the mess. The fabric shipment that was supposed to be here yesterday just came in this morning, and I’m alone in the office today, and I kinda lost track of time.” She laughed, a delicate sound that left his throat dry. When she glanced over her shoulder at him, he realized that he’d been rooted to the spot, staring at her, and he looked down at the floor, shuffling his feet. 

“Can I get you something to drink? I’d offer you something to eat, but nobody is allowed to eat around the fabrics. I’ll get you something when we’re done, though. I baked macarons last night, if you like those…” 

Shaking his head, Luka let his eyes roam around the small studio, taking in the riot of colors and textures that was the workspace. MDC tried again. “Would you like me to put on some music?”

Shrugging one shoulder, Luka mumbled that he didn’t mind. He knew he was being rude, and he hated himself for it, but he seemed completely unable to utter words around her. She was small and appeared delicate, tendrils of her midnight hair escaping from her bun. Internally, Luka was cringing, just waiting for her to bring up his recorded reaction to her singing, but the minutes ticked by, and she never did. For background music, she’d put on the latest Jagged Stone album, and Luka felt all the tension that had been building since the car had arrived for him that morning and had flooded into his body when she opened the door, draining by degrees. 

For her part, MDC was infinitely more attractive in person than she was on the video. That had just shown her outer beauty, her grace, and poise, but even as he stood there, she kept up a steady stream of chatter that was meant to put him at ease. He knew she’d worked with all sorts of people, some who were incredibly exacting about what they wore, while others were counting down the seconds until they could leave, and she was nothing but quietly professional. She’d studied him, in that capacity, her eyes taking in his build, stance, and clothing, but it still had his gut twisting up in knots, knowing that, compared to her casual elegance, even as she’d obviously been absorbed in her work, he would be found lacking. 

He wasn’t wearing anything fancy, just an old band t-shirt, a brand new, super-soft hoodie that his sister had given him when his old one got covered in paint and his MDC jeans, which he’d debated not wearing because of the implications, but that he loved too much not to. Marinette, after checking in with him, reached out to touch his shirt and hoodie, then had him take the baggie outer layer off so that she could check the fit of his more form-fitting shirt. He shifted uncomfortably when she knelt in front of him to check the fit of his jeans, her hand curling around his calf, her bun almost brushing against the front of his pants. She was very professional, though, and Luka made it through with a minimum of embarrassment, beginning to think that she hadn’t seen the video after all. 

When she started asking him a few questions, mostly about his wardrobe, he panicked a little, not really sure what she wanted to know. He was there to be fitted for a suit for some formal event he was being forced to attend, and she was asking about his t-shirt.

“Is this the sort of thing you normally wear?” A wave of her hand encompassed his outfit, although there was no judgment in her tone, just professional curiosity. 

“I like clothes that fit well and are comfortable enough to move around in.” When he spoke, his voice soft, MDC broke out in a huge grin, her eyes jumping to his, and he got lost in the bright sapphire blue. “But I need a suit for the gala, that’s why I’m here.”

Her laugh surrounded him, overwhelming his senses like a symphony as she reached for her notepad and tape measure. Untucking one of the pencils from her bun, causing a few more tendrils of hair to tumble across her shoulders. “What’s your favorite color?” MDC asked with a soft smile. 

“Blue.” Luka was taken in by her smile as she continued to take his measurements, jotting down the answers to her questions alongside her scrawled numbers. “But, I don’t really want a blue suit.”

“Noted.” He could hear the laughter underlying her words. “I had originally thought of a black suit for you, but how would you feel about a charcoal grey?” Not waiting for him to respond, Marinette hurried over to a shelving unit filled with a colorful riot of fabrics, before pulling out a dark grey material. She brought the bolt over to him and asked if he liked the color, before encouraging him to feel it.

“Is this a one time wear suit, just for the gala, or is this something you think you’ll need again? Other events and such? Summer weddings? You don’t seem like you get dressed up unless you have to, but I bet you’re a real heartbreaker when you do.” She winked, and her laugh had every cell of his body aware of her presence.

How Luka managed to choke on his own spit when his mouth had gone bone dry, he wasn’t entirely sure. Her blue eyes went wide and she scurried to the small refrigerator in the corner to grab him a bottle of water. Through watery eyes and a small grin, he showed his gratitude, turning to the side so as not to spray her with water should he start coughing again. MDC hovered around him, concern creasing her forehead until he could gather enough breath to reassure her that he was fine. 

Looking around, he realized he was sitting, she must have pushed him into a seat at some point - or maybe he’d just collapsed there - and realized that he’d never actually answered her question. “If it’s as comfortable as your other stuff I think I’d like it to be my all-purpose monkey suit.” 

She laughed again, and Luka felt a thrill of pride - or possibly something else - swell in his chest as this time he’d intended to make her laugh. Still smiling, MDC placed the cloth back in his hands, once he’d capped his water and set it aside. The material was soft, and he liked the color, so she draped it around his shoulders, holding it up to his face. Frowning slightly, she tossed the cloth to the table and went to pull out a bolt of black in the same material. Repeating the draping process with the black material had the line between her brow deepening before she shook her head, combing his hair down to brush against the black fabric. When they were next to each other like this, his hair seemed a deeper black than even the fabric itself. In the earliest videos that she’d seen of him, he’d dyed the tips various shades of blue, but the glossy black that it was now made the color of his eyes appear even brighter. 

The feel of her fingers in his hair had him gasping, and she yanked her hand back as if burned. “Oh! I am so sorry!” she gasped, quickly undraping the black fabric from his shoulders. “I wanted to see if the color of the fabric was the same as your hair, and I, uh…” She trailed off, red rising up her neck to stain her cheeks. “I got a little carried away.”

Blushing heavily, she looked at the floor. “It’s alright…” Luka hesitated, realizing that he didn’t actually know the name of the woman before him. “It’s alright, MDC.”

She chuckled, her eyes coming up to meet his. “I’m Ma-Ma-Marinette,” she stammered. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng. MDC.”

He smiled at her name and took her outstretched hand in his much larger one. He smiled at the feel of the calluses on her hand, both so similar and so unlike his. “Hello, Ma-Ma-Marinette. It’s nice to meet you.”

The crease between her brows returned as he teased her, and suddenly, all the awkwardness rushed back into the room. “I’m sorry. Sometimes words come out in ways they weren’t intended, but you can’t go wrong with a melody, and here I am without my guitar.”

Her smile crept back onto her face as she looked up to meet his eyes. “And sometimes people record those words for the internet to enjoy.” She gave a half shrug, and Luka’s insides clenched. 

“I am so sorry. My sister’s been recording these ‘day in the life’ videos to show that just because I’m famous doesn’t mean I’m different from anyone else.” He sighed heavily and looked up to meet her eyes. “All I can say is never ask your sibling to make you look less cool and unapproachable. Juleka has taken to the task with an almost maniacal zeal.”

Marinette laughed. “Lucky for me, I don’t have any siblings. Although I can make myself look uncool all on my own.”

Luka shook his head. “I could never believe that anyone as beautiful as you could be uncool.” As Marinette looked away, blushing, Luka replayed his words in his head and cursed himself. “Not with your kind of talent.”

She smiled awkwardly at him, and he scrubbed his hands over his face deciding it was probably best for him to get out before he said anything else that could make the awkward situation worse. “Did you, uh, need me for anything else?” He looked everywhere except directly at Marinette as he asked the question.

“I still need to get your measurements and confirm that you like the charcoal.” Luka gave her a puzzled look and she clarified, “The dark grey fabric for the suit.”

Nodding, Luka held still as Marinette picked her tape measure and notebook back up and got to work, her hands fluttering across his body. She made professional small talk, asking about button-up shirts that he owned, and types of shoes, scowling at him when he suggested that he wear the same ancient pair of converse he currently had on his feet. 

“Do you own any decent shoes?” Marinette asked with an eye-roll. “I don’t make my own, but I can take you shopping for a good pair to go with the suit.

“I’m not sure if they’re what you would consider decent, but I do own dress shoes.” Luka sighed. “So my Doc Martens are a no as well?” 

Luka thought he saw Marinette’s eye start to twitch slightly, but she merely smiled at him.

“I don’t think you’re quite famous enough for that, yet. One day, though…” She broke off and winked at him again from where she was kneeling to measure his inseam, and Luka’s mind went blank. 

It was only moments later that Marinette hopped to her feet announcing that she was finished, and asked if Luka needed anything else.

Scrambling for something witty to say, his mind remained blank, and so Luka pulled out his phone to text the driver. His phone pinged seconds later with the driver’s reply that he was already waiting outside, and Luka awkwardly said goodbye to Marinette. She’d pulled her professional mask back on, and told him that she’d have the preliminary sketches to him within the week, and he could tell her what he liked and didn’t then. Lifting his hand in an awkward wave, Luka turned and fled through the door to where the car was waiting, barely remembering to unlock it before he barreled through. 

He practically dove into the car, and slumped forwards, burying his head in his hands. The driver raised one eyebrow at his behaviour, but said nothing, turning his attention back to traffic, and smoothly pulling away from the curb. He chuckled ruefully to himself, shaking his head and mentally chastising himself for freaking out on her. Luka couldn’t help thinking that not only was she more beautiful in person, but she’d seemed genuinely kind and caring, doing what she could to put him at ease, even knowing the comments he’d made about her.

Marinette had been a true professional, but there was a genuine warmth about her that had Luka smiling, despite his embarrassment. She had been calm and collected, and he’d been a flustered mess. And people thought he was smooth. _Ugh_. If only they’d seen him today. Luka chuckled again. He was really glad only one person had seen him today. The thought that he was going to see her again soon had his heart soaring and his stomach clenching. He really needed to get a grip on himself before that happened. 

~~~

Stepping over to the door to lock it behind him, Marinette waited until she heard the hum of the engine as the car pulled away from the curb, before slumping, back to the door, hands firmly clamped over her mouth and squealed. Luka Couffaine was nowhere near as smooth and aloof as people said. From what she’d seen today, he was just an extremely shy man. _And he thinks you’re both hot **and** cool._ Marinette shook her head, shocked that she’d been able to keep her inner fangirl from breaking out and tripping her tongue, but his genuine unease had her just wanting to make him feel comfortable, and she did everything she could to put him at ease. 

Avoiding her workspace, Marinette snatched up her sketchbook and laptop, heading over to the couch in the corner of the room. She pulled up Luka’s latest album for inspiration and sat down to sketch.


	3. Inspiration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank Epcot97 for his expertise in matters that I know nothing about, but decide to include in my writing anyway.

Six hours later, Marinette was rubbing gritty eyes but thoroughly excited by the designs she’d come up with. She wanted to give Luka the formal three-piece suit that the studio had asked for, but after meeting him, she wanted to give him a few options to dress it down a bit. Deciding to stick with a more traditional suit cut that he could wear anywhere, she chose something that would both be comfortable and flatter his figure. _Although,_ her traitorous mind thought, _anything that showed off his body would flatter it._ Luka Couffaine wasn’t just the skinny rockstar he appeared to be in his baggy hoodie and skin-tight jeans, he was hiding some amazing muscle definition that his worn white band shirt had really showcased.

So the suit would be body-skimming, but loose enough to allow him freedom of movement, and she would add multiple options for the accessories. Marinette had decided to add a third button down the front, rather than the normal two, giving Luka more options and better mobility for his arms, even if he kept it buttoned. 

The suit itself would be the charcoal grey lightweight wool she’d originally picked out for him. She loved the classic black suit, but with Luka’s dark hair, she wanted to mix it up a little bit, and the dark grey would really highlight his eyes. The pants were flat front and would skim down the strong, muscular legs she’d noticed as she desperately tried not to admire the way the jeans she’d made clung to them.

The order for those jeans had been interesting. It had come in through her website, measurements and embellishment requests in the notes and paid for upfront, while the person’s name was just listed as ‘JC’, whom she now realized was probably his sister, Juleka, a model that she’d worked with a couple of times in the past. Marinette often received custom orders that came through the website in that way, although they usually came with a name. She’d shrugged it off, though, and created the garment to the specifications requested. And they looked good on him, Marinette could admit that, although she thought that probably had more to do with him and less to do with the cut of the jeans. 

Tucking away the designs she’d worked on and tidying up the studio, Marinette took a deep breath and headed back to her house, letting her designs rest until Monday when she could come back and look at them with clear eyes and a fresh mind. She didn’t often work Saturdays, at least not at the studio, but for clients like the Stone Recording Studio, she was always willing to make an exception. Jagged Stone, the founder of the music studio, was someone she’d met by accident when she was still a teenager. It was his patronage in conjunction with her talent that had opened doors for her at an age where most designers were still slaving away for somebody else. 

Locking the front door behind her as she walked out into the late afternoon sunshine, Marinette unconsciously hummed one of Luka’s songs she’d had on repeat for the past several hours, a smile on her face and a swing in her stride as she shifted direction from her home towards her parents’ bakery. Her rumbling stomach reminded her just how caught up in her work she had been, and she felt safe in the knowledge that they always had a fridge full of leftovers for their ‘poor starving daughter’ to take advantage of. 

Laughing as she thought of the way her mother always pressed her to take home extra containers of whatever they’d eaten, or occasionally stopping by her apartment with a parcel of food if they hadn’t spoken in a few days. Marinette loved her parents and their firm belief that food solved all the world's problems, which may just have been why she’d worked out her nerves over meeting Luka the previous evening as she stress-baked three different flavours of macarons. 

Her footsteps paused as she reached the park that was the last step to her parents’ house. _When had she stopped thinking of him as Luka Couffaine, the brilliant, untouchable musician, and started thinking of him as Luka, a warmth to the name that had her heart beating just a little bit faster_? She shook off the thought, not wanting to probe too deeply into that right now, especially as she’d spent the afternoon immersing herself in him, as she tried to do with all of her clients as she designed for them. 

A few minutes later, she knocked on her parents’ door before letting herself in, and her parents greeted her warmly, inquiring about her day, taking in her pencil smudged face and hands, and nudging her towards the table where dinner was just about to be served. Marinette didn’t even bother to protest, allowing herself to be led to the table, with only a quick detour to the kitchen sink to wash up,, snagging a fresh, yeasty roll from the kitchen counter as she passed by. Her stomach rumbled, causing her father to laugh and press her firmly into a chair, while her mother placed a bowl of noodles in front of her, the fragrant steam drawing another growl from her empty stomach. 

Talking while she ate, she filled her parents in on her day, leaving out client names, but explaining her ideas and the vision behind her designs. Her dad grumbled a little bit about the fact that her client’s work was making him wear a suit, but he loved the idea that she was making it versatile and tailoring it to match his personality. Marinette explained her idea for one of the vests she’d designed, that mirrored something she had made recently for her client’s sister, and her father practically melted at the familial connection between the outfits. 

After relaxing with her parents for another hour or so, Marinette left them as they started to get ready for their typically early bedtime, heading down to the nearby subway stop, making her way back to her own house for the night. 

Once she was alone again, she tried very hard to put Luka Couffaine out of her mind, but after having spent the day either in the man’s presence, or designing for him, while his voice and lyrics wrapped themselves around her brain, that was a herculean task. With a sigh, she resigned herself to thinking of him and was mostly able to keep her thoughts somewhat professional. 

Later that night, when she was alone in her apartment, she allowed herself to fall apart in a way she never would in her studio. She squealed into one of the decorative couch pillows that she made with scraps of her favorite materials. Luka had always seemed calm and composed, unflappable, even, but she’d only really ever seen him on stage. In-person, he was quiet and shy, and that just made him even more appealing. 

_And he thinks you’re hot_ a little voice in her head reminded her, but she quashed it, quickly, remembering how embarrassed he’d been when she teased him about it. He’d complimented her too, she remembered, smiling to herself. At least he’d reiterated the fact that he found her attractive. And ‘cool’. Marinette snorted at the thought. If only he could see what a mess she was outside of her professional life. She’d let him run with that fantasy, she thought, ears turning pink as she broke her own rule and briefly wondered what other fantasies he might have about her. 

Shaking herself before she could go too far down that road, she let her mind picture him in the suit she had designed. _I’ll ask him out for coffee_ Marinette decided, _once he’s no longer a client._ Technically the studio was the client, Jagged often sent people her way, but Luka was the one she was designing for, and thus off-limits until the job was done. 

She’d send him the designs on Monday, assuming they stood the test of time between now and then, and there were not any tweaks that she wanted to make. Marinette allowed herself to picture his reaction, his quiet, serious eyes studying the designs, hoping that they would be comfortable, but resigning himself to wearing whatever she came up with. At least she hoped he trusted her that much. 

In the end, there weren’t any changes she wanted to make. She felt the designs suited him just as well on Monday morning as she had on Saturday afternoon. To match the charcoal grey suit coat and pants, she’d created a variety of accessories. The traditional charcoal grey vest that perfectly matched the suit was for the most formal of occasions. She’d drawn in both a charcoal grey bowtie as well as an ocean blue one that matched the color of his eyes, depending on what color shirt he was wearing. White, she hoped, as it was the most versatile, but if he could find a dress shirt that was a lighter grey, or even a true black one, a color as all-consuming as his hair, the blue would look stunning. 

A royal blue jacquard fabric, with musical staffs running over it made up the second vest, as well as a matching four-in-hand necktie, and a handkerchief to tuck inside his pocket. The third vest was the one she was most proud of. It was still sleek and formal and would contour itself to Luka’s body like the others, but this one was jet black and made of buttery soft leather. She’d found some that was thin and supple, and had cut it in a way that would make the casual observer think that it was a finer fabric but captured Luka’s easygoing, casual attitude. Or at least what Marinette assumed was his authentic self and not the painfully shy young man she’s seen two days before. The fact that it was the same leather as she’d used in the evening gown she’d designed for his sister, was the icing on the cake. She needed to hunt up some of the purple silk she’d used for Juleka’s dress to make him a tie and handkerchief to match her. 

Typing up a quick email, Marinette sent it off to Luka before continuing with her day. When she checked her email again at lunchtime, she found that Luka had written her back, praising her creativity and giving his approval for the designs. Finding herself smiling from more than just professionalism, she replied to him saying that she would get started later that week and inviting him to come in for a fitting the next week. They sorted out a time, after normal business hours, in the middle of the week, and Marinette made some mental calculations with the schedule, figuring out who would be able to work on which commission pieces. 

Odette and Aimee were both excellent seamstresses, talented and conscientious, and Marinette had no qualms with them cutting and sewing anything she’d designed, but there was something about Luka’s commission that she found herself wanting to be the only person to work on it. It was probably more about the man than the commission, she thought dryly, but shrugged and delegated some of her other pieces to her employees. Aimee grinned at her with a knowing smile and Marinette blushed, but just smiled back at the other woman, handing her the design, measurements, and fabric choices for a custom wedding dress, pointing out that nobody’s beadwork was as good as Aimee’s. Which was true, but _still_...

Marinette went and examined the grey material that she had in stock, and none of it seemed quite right. She had the right shade of charcoal grey, the one she’d draped over Luka’s shoulders that day they’d met, but not the lightweight wool that she was looking for, and the wool that was just right was a light shade of red, and Marinette shook her head, unable to picture the quiet man she’d met in such an unorthodox color. 

She contacted one of the warehouses that she usually worked with for fabrics, explaining what she was looking for, and they gave her an appointment for the next morning, and they’d pull what they had that matched her description. Happy to have her designs approved and her fabric selections coming together, Marinette set to work on the one thing she had all the supplies for, the black leather vest. 

Several months ago, she’d been making a pair of leather pants, a commission from the daughter of a prominent politician, and she’d fallen in love with the soft, flexible material she was working with. As she ran it through her fingers, she’d ordered much more than she’d originally intended, knowing that it would come in useful one day. She’d self-indulgently made a jacket out of the leather, embroidering the back with pink and white apple blossoms, and using metallic pink threads for all of the visible seams. What emerged was a jacket that was both edgy and feminine, incredibly comfortable and completely Marinette. 

It was that same material that she’d exclaimed over to Juleka when the model had come in for an evening dress that she’d commissioned for her own use, not something she was required to wear by those that employed her. When Juleka had touched the leather for the first time, she’d practically purred, and Marinette knew she’d need to incorporate it in some way. It had eventually become the bodice of a dress that was laced with a deep purple ribbon topping a sleek skirt of purple silk, that skimmed the model’s body, showing off why she was one of the most sought after women in her field. 

She wanted something like that for Luka, clothing that offered a glimpse at his personality, and so Marinette considered using a silvery thread for the seams of the vest. Ultimately she rejected it because some instinct had her hand drifting back to a metallic black thread that shimmered under direct light, but was otherwise undetectable. It suited him, she supposed, the quiet exterior with the little bit of flash that showed itself when he played.

Stroking her fingers over the soft, supple leather, Marinette pulled out her fabric chalk and began to mark up the measurements for a vest for her newest client. She hummed to herself as she worked, and it wasn’t long before she heard the song echoing from the Bluetooth speakers she kept so people could hook up their own music. She glanced up to see Odette smirking at her over her sewing machine, and Marinette couldn’t resist an answering grin as she started belting out _Always Lonely, Never Alone_ along with the recorded voice of Luka Couffaine. 

After pinning the pieces together, Marinette walked them over to her sewing machine, losing herself in the whir and hum as the clatter drowned out everything but the music. She continued to sing along to whatever came on. It was an eclectic mix, all of which she enjoyed, but Odette and Aimee tended to battle for radio dominance, Odette’s preference for screaming guitars that drowned out the noise of their machines at odds with Aimee’s perky pop songs that kept the tempo of their work rolling right along. 

They all agreed on a few artists, usually those that played a variety of songs, Luka Couffaine recently having edged out Jagged stone as everyone’s favorite. Luka was gaining in popularity,, not just for his skill and his handsome face, but because of his seemingly effortless ability to switch between a wide variety of musical styles and make all of them appear heartfelt and loaded with emotion. 

When the studio had called to commission her to make him his suit, the woman on the other end, Penny, whom Marinette had often worked with, told her with a smile in her voice that this one would be fun to work with. When Luka’s song, _Always Lonely, Never Alone_ mentioning MDC jeans had come out, she thought she realized what the older woman had been hinting at. It wasn’t until Luka had left, and her studio felt suddenly empty that she understood what true presence of personality meant. It was strange, how someone she’d only met once, and had spoken few words seemed to linger in her workshop wherever she looked. 

~~~

Luka had been inspired that weekend for the first time in a long time, and he’d spent 36 hours straight locked in one of the practice rooms at Jagged’s studio with his guitar and a notebook. Interns regularly stopped by with food, water, and coffee, and Juleka had barged in on him at almost midnight on Saturday when he didn’t answer her texts, but one glance at the look on his face and she’d left him alone with an admonition to make sure he was eating and keeping hydrated. He had nodded absently and had already forgotten her presence before she’d even closed the door behind her. 

It was almost 4 in the morning when he resurfaced again, and that was only because the pressure in his bladder was distracting him from finding the right chords. He stumbled down the hallway to the restroom, vaguely wondering why most of the lights were off, then sighing in relief as he slumped over the urinal. Everything became musical to Luka when he was in the zone like this, and the sound of water splattering on the ceramic bowl sparked something in his mind. He tried to hold onto the thought, even as he cursed at his bladder to empty faster, and as soon as he was finished, he raced to zip up, wash his hands, and made a mad dash back to the practice room where his notebook and guitar lay abandoned. 

Twelve hours later, Luka was drooping with fatigue but had a complete song, as well as the start of several others scribbled in his notebook. Stumbling his way back to the apartment he shared with his sister whenever he was in town, his guitar slung on his back and his notebook clutched close. Tired as he was, he hung his keys on the hook inside the door and placed his guitar in Juleka’s recliner before dropping to the couch. His head tipped back and his eyes closed, his breathing evened out into soft snores, which is where Juleka found him, half an hour later. 

Wrinkling her nose, she chivvied him off the couch, shoving her brother towards the bathroom and ordering him to shower. Luka groaned, only half awake, and shuffled into the bathroom, barely remembering to take his clothes off before stepping into the steaming water of the shower. Fifteen minutes later he emerged wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and feeling marginally more human. He looked at the omelet Juleka had prepared for him, wolfing it down once he realized how ravenous he was. 

He dropped the fork onto the plate with a clatter and let out a satisfied sigh, pushing his chair back a bit and resting his forearms on the table. His head drooped forwards, his hair brushing dangerously close to his plate, causing Juleka to let out a world-weary sigh.

“Jeez, dumbass, why don’t you go to bed already? I see Marinette had even more of an effect on you in person. Did you finally take my advice and get laid?”

Luka’s head snapped up so quickly that Juleka almost fell out of her chair laughing. He leveled her with the best glare he could muster at the moment, and his sister just laughed harder. He gave up when his eyes closed as he let out a jaw-cracking yawn, and Juleka just pointed to his bedroom. “Sleep now. You can tell me about it in the morning.

When Luka stumbled out of bed at the crack of noon, he was completely unprepared for the email from Marinette. She’d haunted his dreams the night before, both her face and her melody, and Luka couldn’t get enough. The sketches of the suit and vests that she’d made him looked absolutely amazing, and he wrote back to her immediately, a little over-eager, but at least he’d slept in long enough that Marinette wouldn't realize that.

Juleka breezed through the door as he was starting on his second cup of coffee, and she smiled a very predatory smile. “So,” she said, dropping down on the chair opposite him, “tell me everything.”


	4. Epeephany

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title is 100% Verfound’s fault. I was spitballing the epiphany scene with her when I made her accidentally snort her dinner, and I knew I was onto something. (Why yes, I will happily throw my friends under the bus with very little provocation!)

Thursday morning was cool and windy and Luka awoke with the sun. It was stupid how excited he was to see Marinette’s designs that evening. At least, he was excited to see Marinette. The designs were just a bonus. Juleka had been teasing him all week about how _stupid_ he was being about Marinette, but even her eye-roll when she saw him emerge from his bedroom, dressed a little nicer than usual, a crisp, white button-up shirt and, of course, his MDC jeans. 

Luka offered his sister a flat look. “What?” When Juleka just quirked an eyebrow at him, he colored slightly, cursing himself for the reaction. “Marinette asked me to wear one today, She said it will help with the suit fitting.”

Juleka just smirked. “When’s that fitting?” Making a big show of checking her watch, Juleka threw Luka a knowing look. “In another twelve hours?”

The glare he shot her not only failed to strike her dead where she sat but didn’t even manage to wipe the knowing look off her face. He took his time, fixing his coffee before bringing it back to the table, his hands curled around the mug, but not quite touching it, letting the heat seep into his fingers. His head dropped forwards, hair flopping across his forehead, and he stared down into his coffee. 

Leaning over, Juleka placed a hand on his arm, all signs of teasing gone from her face. “You really like her, don’t you, Luka?”

Sighing, he brought his hands up to scrub over his face. “I really do. I barely know her, but I can’t get her out of my head. She’s gorgeous, sure, but she’s been so kind to me. I’ve been acting like an absolute moron, and she’s ignored the stupid and just tried to put me at ease. She’s so completely unaffected by the whole fame thing, too. She’s perfect, Jule. And I can’t stop embarrassing myself in front of her.”

Ruffling her brother’s hair, Juleka smiled. “Did you know I walked for her at her very first runway show? I was terrified of working with a new designer, someone I didn’t know. Jaques has been so good to me that I was scared to work with anyone else. But she was just so genuinely _nice_ to everyone, even with all the tremendous pressure she was under. That’s why I keep going back to her, even after she pulled out of the haute couture world, instead, working via commission to make things accessible to everyone. She’s a good soul.” 

Juleka stopped and took a deep breath, fixing her brother with a look that told him he was not to repeat what she said next. “Like you are. I think the two of you would be good for each other.”

Luka gawked at her. “Did you just say something _nice_ about me?” he asked, bewildered. 

She shot him a ‘could you just shut up’ look and rolled her eyes, but ruffled Luka’s hair one more time, as he reached up to comb it back into place with a huff. Their eyes met, and they both burst out laughing before Luka pulled his little sister into a brief but tight one-armed hug. “Thanks for the pep-talk, Jule. I’m feeling so much more confident about tonight.”

She shrugged one shoulder, delicately. “I could just call her and ask what she thinks of you.” Juleka pulled out her phone and unlocked it, as Luka lunged for it, sending the phone clattering to the table. 

“I haven’t regressed quite enough to have my sister asking girls if they like me.” Luka dropped his head back into his hands. “Yet.”

Laughing, Juleka patted his back before getting to her feet and grabbing her purse. “It really is too early to be wearing that shirt. You don’t want to get food or worse, sweat on it before you get to Marinette’s.”

Luka sighed. He really hated it when his sister was right. 

He pulled on a t-shirt, grabbed his guitar and notebook, and headed to the studio; he still had songs in his head that needed to be captured on paper. Before he sunk into the creative haze, he set an alarm on his phone to make sure he was at Marinette’s on time. 

It was his phone that dragged him from his music several hours later, but a phone call from Juleka, rather than his alarm. He knew she loved him, or at least wanted to live, so she wouldn’t interrupt him unless it was something major. “Jule?” He answered his phone slightly out of breath. “Is everything OK?”

He could hear the smile in her voice as she answered. “Fine. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t lose track of time.” The alarm he’d set chose that moment to go off, and Juleka chuckled. “You _did_ remember to set your alarm. You’re learning. Now get something to eat and change before you go see Marinette, alright?”

Luka laughed. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Ugh.” Juleka’s tone was disgusted. “I’m not turning into Mom, I’m turning into _you_!”

His laughter grew and Juleka made a disgusted noise at the back of her throat before hanging up. Luka tidied away his notebook and tucked his guitar back into its case. He’d been able to write for the past almost 2 weeks, the creativity sparking through his body, although with less manic energy than it had in those first 36 hours after meeting Marinette. The crackle of music had settled into a gentle hum, although he did worry a little that seeing her again today might set the lightning coursing back through his veins. 

He locked himself into the same restroom where he’d had his epiphany that first night and took stock of himself in the mirror. His hair was disheveled, but otherwise, he looked in pretty decent shape. He’d shaved that morning, and while his hair was dark, there wasn’t any need for him to shave again right then, only the barest hint of stubble darkening his jawline. He wet his hair, scraping it back, trying to tame it in a way that looked less like he’d spent the day running his fingers through it and more intentionally tousled. 

Pulling his dress shirt on and buttoning it up, he automatically rolled the sleeves up to his elbows before slipping into his jacket. The driver texted him that he was waiting out in front of the studio, so, with one final glance in the mirror, Luka shouldered his guitar and headed down to the lobby. The same driver waited for him, face carefully neutral, eyes covered with darkly tinted sunglasses, but Luka could feel the man’s smirk, even if the driver didn’t let it show, and Luka sighed. 

The door was unlocked when he knocked on her studio entrance, and it was pulled open by a lightly freckled redhead with a pixie cut that perfectly suited her elven features, just as he went to push it open. She gasped in surprise, but then her smile widened as she turned to call back over her shoulder in a sing-song voice, “Oh, Marinette! Your client is here!” 

She shot him a wink as he heard Marinette’s voice call out, “Thanks, Aimee! I’ll see you in the morning!” 

Aimee pointed him in Marinette’s general direction then looked him over, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “You kids behave!” she chided as she breezed through the door with a waggle of her fingers, pulling it shut and locking it behind her.

Luka watched her go and then turned back into the studio, where he saw Marinette emerging from behind an enormous stack of fabrics. 

“Luka! I’m so glad you made it! Come on in. Can I get you anything?”

He shook his head, marveling at the amount of energy she still had at the end of the day, and basking in the warmth of her smile. She grabbed a bag with his name on it off of a nearby garment rack and ran through the procedure. “First, I’ll have you try on the suit with the formal vest. I’m so glad you remembered to wear your button-up shirt! That will help with the fit and the look of the suit.” She reached over and fingered the material of his sleeve once he’d draped his jacket over the back of a chair. “Although, I could make you a nicer one if you’d like.” 

Her eyes shot up to meet his, wide and round and achingly blue, and her hand came up to cover her mouth. “I’m sorry. That was rude. This is a perfectly nice dress shirt, but it’s not really super formal. Would you let me make you a shirt? Light grey? It would go with all three vests, although blue would look really good on you, too.” 

“If you don’t mind, I’d love for you to make me a shirt.” Luka’s mouth replied before his brain could catch up with the conversation. It must have been the right thing to say, though, because Marinette beamed at him.

“Wonderful! I’ll have that ready for your final fitting. For now, though, wear that one and it will give you a good sense of how the suit is going to feel.” Pulling out the coat, pants, and grey vest from the garment bag, Marinette offered it up to Luka to feel and then ushered him back to a curtained-off corner of the studio. She hung the three garments on the rail in there and told him to change. Things wouldn’t fit perfectly, but that was the point of today, to make any adjustments needed. 

Luka slipped into the suit, marveling at how much mobility he had, as well as the softness of the fabric, and how easy and comfortable it was to wear. He wasn’t sure whether much adjustment was needed, but Marinette frowned at him when he stepped out from behind the curtain, so her expert eye must have been able to see something he couldn’t.

She had him stand on a small platform, while she knelt at its edge, studying his legs. He talked to her about the songs he was writing, and the creative spark he’d had as she worked, and he found himself telling her the story of how he’d been stuck, but it was the sound of water splashing into a urinal that had broken through, and how he’d desperately tried to keep that thought in his head as his bladder hadn’t got the message that there were new priorities. 

Marinette laughed so hard she had to remove the pins she had clenched between her lips, and Luka looked down at her with a soft expression on his face. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye as she looked back up at him, and snorted, in what he thought was a thoroughly adorable way. “Luka, I think you had an epeephany.” She had to sit down as she started laughing again, shoulders shaking, tears running down her cheeks as she giggled. “I totally understand the feeling of needing to create when inspiration strikes, but I’m not sure I’ve ever been inspired by a toilet before. In the shower though…” She hummed as she stuck a couple more pins in her mouth and ran her hands along his lapels. 

Luka’s brain shut down as his thoughts of Marinette jumping out of the shower to quickly write something down flashed through his mind. A low-level hum started up in the back of his mind, as he tried to drag his mind out of the gutter, but when her hands were smoothing themselves over his chest it was hard to think of anything else. 

She finished up his jacket and had him remove it as she checked the fit of his pants. Luka was trying hard to think of anything but the quick, competent hands that were stroking their way up his legs. Marinette had a mouthful of pins and was gathering the excess material, and making the pants fit him perfectly. Every time he looked down at her dark head bobbing along to the music that was playing in the workshop he had to quickly look away and think of something else, _anything else_ before the fit of his suit pants needed altering. 

After entirely too long, and not nearly enough time, she was finished and stepped back to study her work. She asked him to turn for her, at least he assumed she did, the buzzing in his head blocked out all other sounds in the room, but she made the twirling motion with her finger, so he turned for her. 

A soft hand on his forearm stopped him, as Marinette smiled softly up at him and pointed to the corner where she’d had him change his clothes. The buzzing was quieter now, and he understood that she was asking him to be careful taking the pants off so he didn’t stab himself with the pins. She chatted about how everything would be ready for him the next week, but she wanted him to come in to try them on one final time, in case there were any final adjustments to be made. Shoes were something else that she mentioned, but he’d have to get her to repeat it later. There was a pause in her chatter, and then he heard Marinette’s voice clearly. “Would you like some coffee?”

His heart almost stopped. _Was she asking him out?_ It seemed almost too good to be true. If he were honest, which is something he tried very hard to be, Luka would have told her his penchant for hole in the wall coffee shops, but wanting to impress her, he told her all about the fancy new coffee place down by the recording studio that had all these elaborate drinks that everyone he worked with kept talking about.

Silence greeted his ravings about _Cafe Nox_. He wished he could see Marinette’s face on the other side of the changing curtain, but before he could say anything else, Marinette spoke with false cheer in her voice. “All I have here is regular and extra-caffeinated. Or tea. I could make you that, but if you prefer something fancy, I could run down to the cafe for you. It’s, uh, only a block or so away.”

Hurriedly zipping up his jeans, Luka stepped barefoot from behind the curtain that designated the changing room. “No, Marinette. Regular coffee is fine. Or maybe I need the extra caffeine to clear my head today, I’m sorry.” She waved him off and stepped towards where her coat and purse were hanging. “I’ll only be a few minutes, what did you want?”

Luka stepped towards her, his hand reaching out and resting on her shoulder. “Marinette, stay, really. A black coffee would be great.” When her empty hand dropped back to her side, he removed his hand from her shoulder, running it through his hair, and looking anywhere but at her. “When you mentioned coffee, I, uh, I thought you were asking me out.” Feeling his face flush, Luka scrubbed both hands over it. “Hoped you were, actually.” Daring to glance up at her, he took in her stunned expression, mouth open in a perfect ‘o’ of surprise. 

She blinked up at him several times, and Luka’s heart rate felt like it was doubling. The buzzing was back in his head, but when Marinette shook off her obvious shock at his declaration, he heard her words clearly, each one a knife to the heart. “Oh, I, uh, I don’t date clients. That gets messy.” He tried not to look as completely devastated as he felt, which was ridiculous because this was only the second time he’d met her, how could he have fallen so hard so fast?

Marinette was still speaking, and Luka’s eyes snapped up to hers as she continued. “But I should be done with your suit next week, so maybe we could do something the week after?”

His heart started to beat again, galloping in his chest as he nodded mutely, a smile cracking across his features. He bent to kiss her cheek, feeling her blush heat the skin under his lips. He gave her what he hoped was a dashing smile, but was probably more of a smitten grin, and plucked his beat-up leather jacket off the back of the chair. Slinging it over the button-up shirt Marinette had asked him to wear, in a way that was almost cool, Luka winked at her as he strode towards the door. He was just reaching for the doorknob when he heard Marinette squeak, “Shoes!”

Looking back at her with a frown, he glanced down at his feet, realizing that he was still barefoot. He blushed red with embarrassment, feeling the flush all the way to the roots of his hair. Could he be any more of an idiot around her? Apparently, the answer to that question was a resounding _yes_ because she stood there, holding his Doc Martens in one hand and the ‘I’ll be Bach’ socks that his sister had given him in the other. And now he remembered why he’d taken them off: the hole in the toe of one of them. 

Squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath or two, Luka said a quick prayer that Marinette would not notice the hole in the toe of his favorite socks. Luck was not on Luka’s side, though, and, in a cheerful voice, Marinette offered to fix it for him. Before he even had a chance to respond, she was placing his boots on the ground and dashing off to her thread wall, where she held the sock up, trying to match the colors. Finding one that was close, Marinette snipped a length of it with the scissors she pulled from the pocket of her work apron, selected a needle, and had it threaded before he could even blink. 

A less than a minute later, Marinette was tying off the thread and snipping it neatly with the smallest pair of scissors Luka had ever seen. They disappeared back into the pocket of her apron, and Marinette straightened, handing it back to him. “Nice socks.” She said with a grin. 

His smile felt more like a grimace as he took the newly mended sock from her hand. “Thanks. My sister bought them for me, but they’re comfortable.” Shrugging, he bit the bullet and lied to her. “I wasn’t really paying attention to what I put on this morning.”

Marinette gasped in mock-outrage as she balled one hand into a fist on her hip, the other covering her heart. “Such sacrilege!”

They both grinned at each other, and Luka blurted before he could think about the words. “It’s fine. I knew you’d want me to take it all off, anyway.” He slapped a hand across his mouth and stared at her wide-eyed. “I mean, so that you could put your clothes on me.” At Marinette’s strangled noise, he pointed at the suit that was hanging up in the changing area. “I’m just going to shut up now.” He groaned, sinking back down into the chair, his head in his hands. Feeling Marinette vibrating next to him, he peeked through his fingers at her and saw that she had both hands clapped over her mouth, shaking with suppressed laughter. 

“Oh, God, Luka. You sound like me when I was thirteen and trying to talk to a cute guy.” Mortification swept over him, and his face heated up. _This was where she told him she’d changed her mind about the coffee date_ , he thought, grumpily, but she only grinned at him and patted his shoulder. “Anyway, you can’t leave yet, you still have two more vests to try on. The last one is my favorite!”

Grabbing his hand, she pulled him to his feet, heading back to the garment bag with his name on it. She pulled out another vest, a matching bowtie and skinny tie both draped over the hanger. This one was a deep ocean blue and had some kind of pattern on it that he couldn’t really see. Picking it up, he ran his thumb over it, tracing the musical notes embroidered in the same color across the front. Marinette pulled off one of the ties, holding it next to her face, and beamed at him. “Good. It _is_ the same color as your eyes.” She blushed slightly. “That’s what I was going for. That way you’ll always match!”

He slipped the vest on over the dress shirt he was still wearing while Marinette went to make them some coffee. He shrugged it around until it sat comfortably on his shoulders, then buttoned it up. Placing two to-go cups on the desk, Marinette turned to him, threading the bowtie under his collar and deftly tying it. Luka swallowed hard at her soft touch, and her fingers froze as his Adam's apple bobbed. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“No,” he managed to grind out as she finally removed her hands from his skin, and his powers of speech returned. She brushed her hands across his chest, checking the fit, and had him turn around for her. She made minor adjustments on the bottom hem but otherwise deemed it good. Her eyes sparkled as she told Luka to take off the vest as she reached over to pull out the final one. As he turned away to unbutton it, Marinette cocked her head to the side and said in a thoughtful voice, laughter bubbling just under the surface, “You’re right. I am pretty bossy about making you take off your clothes.”

Luka choked as Marinette laughed. 

~~~

Marinette had no idea what was allowing her to be so bold. She _never_ allowed herself to flirt at work, and where did she find the courage to ask out _Luka Couffaine_? And he’d said _yes_! She had to stay calm until he’d left, but inside, Marinette was squealing. She’d really struggled to stay professional after that, and he was absolutely adorable when he was all flustered. It was a pretty heady feeling to have that kind of effect on him. 

Once he’d removed the blue vest, Marinette passed over the coffee. “Sorry, I can’t risk you spilling on the clothing. Once you leave here it’s on you, but in this room? No food or drinks near the fabrics.” She smiled to soften her no-nonsense tone, but that was one lesson Marinette had learned the hard way and had no wish to repeat. 

She hung the vest and ties up and slipped them back into the garment bag, before pulling out the final set, one of her favorites. The tie was made of the same purple silk as Juleka’s dress had been, but she was exceptionally proud of the vest. The black metallic thread gleamed as the lights caught it, but in the shadow of his suit coat would look flat and black. She held it up, and Luka let out a gasp as his hand reached forward to stroke the soft, supple leather. A crease appeared between his brows as she pulled out the tie, tossing it over her shoulder so that she could help him shrug into the vest. 

It fit him like a glove. There were no adjustments that needed to be made, and when she looped the tie around his neck, fastening it in a simple windsor knot, Luka ran the ends between his fingers before tucking it inside his vest. “You know,” he said, brow furrowed, as he ran a hand over the buttery softness of the vest. “This reminds me of that dress you made for Juleka. She absolutely loves that thing, and rightly so. It’s gorgeous.”

The smile that broke across Marinette’s face was like the sun emerging from behind a cloud. “It’s the same,” she said, beaming. “Same silk, same leather. I know she often accompanies you to different events, so I wanted you two to be able to coordinate.” She sighed. “Plus, I adore that leather.” Directing his attention to the stitching, she added, “I didn’t think you’d want the same metallic purple thread I used for her, so I gave you a metallic black. It won’t show up unless the light hits it, so you can be subtle or flashy. If you wanted me to embroider something else on it, I could do that as well.”

Flexing her fingers, she went on, “I don’t usually embroider leather, it’s a pain both literally and figuratively, but this one is thin and soft and much easier to work with. My jacket took me forever.” Indicating the black leather jacket that hung on a coat rack by the door, Marinette pointed out the soft, sparkling pink apple blossoms that cascaded from the right shoulder across the back to the bottom hem. “But of course I did that in my spare time.”

Luka crossed the room, pausing by the coat rack to finger the leather of the jacket, running one calloused finger carefully across the details of the petals. Marinette felt a pang of jealousy towards her jacket but then shook her head, feeling ridiculous. 

“This is incredible, Marinette. It looks so simple, but up close, the color gradient is amazing.”

Blushing brightly, Marinette thanked him, then redirected him back to his little platform. She tugged at the bottom of the vest, running her fingers around the edges, but didn’t find anything to adjust. Smiling, she nodded to herself, then held out her hand to help Luka down the step from the platform. His warm hand wrapped around hers, engulfing it, and he squeezed it lightly as he hopped down to the floor. Her smile lingered a few moments longer before she realized she should let go of his hand, and so she did, waving him back to the changing area. 

When Luka was back in his everyday clothes, Marinette was surprised when he looked up suddenly from lacing up his boots. “Do you think you could make me another couple of pairs of jeans? These have always been my favorite, but, since that song came out…” He trailed off, looking embarrassed, and Marinette’s smile widened.

“ _My_ song?” she teased, and Luka’s lips quirked as he tried not to laugh.

“Yeah. Now people expect me to be wearing them all the time. I don’t need all the embroidery,” he hurried to add. “And I’m pretty good at ripping the knees out on my own. Not on purpose and definitely not as artistically, but intact jeans are nice every once in a while.” They both laughed, and the soft smile he offered her had her heart fluttering. 

Switching back to professional mode, Marinette nodded. “I can do that. Do you have a color preference? Your last pair was black denim, but I have some other colors.” Once Luka had finished tying his boots, she went to dig through her pile of denim. She turned and looked him up and down, before reaching around the back for a softly faded blue and a deep indigo. 

Reaching out to feel each of the fabrics, Luka nodded at their softness. “Those feel great. Comfort is more important to me than color, and I trust your choices.”

Marinette shot him a horrified look, but inside she was smiling. _Luka Couffaine trusted her fashion sense._ Never mind that she was semi-famous, and considered an up and comer in the fashion industry. Luka liked her style. A voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like her best friend chuckled at her. _Girl, you are in so much trouble._ Marinette was terribly afraid that little voice was right.


	5. Dripping Wet

Everything was finished. Marinette had worked late on a couple of days to make sure the jeans for Luka Couffaine were finished. She laughed as she had finished up, just in time to place an order for more denim thanks to his song. She knew that not everyone could afford custom fit clothing, but she tried to keep her prices reasonable for the amount of work that went into them, and they’d received quite a few orders on their website, mostly, she was sure, because of _Always Lonely, Never Alone_. For those orders, she took color requests and measurements, and then made and mailed the finished product, no fittings required. 

Luka’s jeans, she’d made herself, hurrying to get them done. She tried telling herself it was so she could give him his entire order together, but she knew that it was more because of the promise of a coffee date. Once she finished all his clothes, he would no longer be her client, and they could start dating. Marinette had a whole fantasy relationship built up in her head, but nerves suddenly wracked her. Had Luka even been serious when he’d said he wanted to go for coffee with her? He’d seemed so at the time, but the further she got from that moment, the more doubt crept into her mind. Either way, she planned to make a fool of herself, asking him again when he came in the next morning, a Saturday, to pick up his stuff. Marinette sighed, rearranging everything one more time before she went home to worry some more. 

Saturday morning was wet. Marinette was lucky, having brought her bright red ladybug umbrella with her into the studio, but not needing it, the skies opening minutes after she’d closed the door behind her. Luka was not so lucky. She heard him pounding on her door a full 20 minutes after she’d arrived, looking drenched and miserable, having decided to eschew the studio’s car, and driver’s prying eyes, in favor of spending more time with Marinette without the studio checking up on him. 

Taking in his bedraggled appearance, she gave a little squeak, and Marinette grabbed Luka’s arm and yanked him inside, leaving him dripping just inside the door as she ran to the back and snatched up a couple of yards of hot pink fleece, running back out to Luka. 

Handing over the fleece a little sheepishly, Marinette gave a little half-shrug. “I don’t really keep towels on hand, although you look like you could really use one.” She paused to appraise him. ”Or several. I just use this as a pressing cloth, so don’t worry about getting it gross.”

Luka bent to unlace his boots, and toed them off, leaving them in a spreading pile of water by the door. Marinette tugged him back towards the curtained-off changing area. “How much of you is wet? I know I’m stripping you down for the final fitting anyway, but do you need dry underwear?” Luka’s back was to her, but she saw the tips of his ears turn pink, and knew that her face was a similar color. 

He spluttered momentarily but grinned sheepishly over his shoulder at her. “I’m wet enough that I really can’t tell so that probably means they’re soaked. I can do without, though, wouldn’t be the first time.” His eyes rounded as he realized exactly what he’d said, and even Marinette blushed and found something else to look at. Turning his head away from her, he busied himself pulling the heavy curtain around the changing area, and shucking his wet clothes.

Marinette took a deep breath, digging for her professionalism, and finding the well of calm within herself, called on it. A few moments later, she was serene and smiling again. Hearing the wet plop of denim hitting the floor, Marinette called over the curtain, “toss your wet clothes out here, and I’ll run them through the clothes press. It’s not as thorough as a dryer, but it will get out the worst of the water and warm them up.”

Making a noise of agreement, a sodden shirt and jeans appeared from under the curtain. “Socks?” inquired Marinette.

“Surprisingly dry,” Luka replied. “Those boots really are waterproof.”

Eyeing his heavy black motorcycle boots, Marinette gave a shrug and a little half-smile that she knew Luka wouldn’t be able to see from behind the curtain. “I guess there is something to be said about comfort over appearance. Although I don’t see why it couldn’t be functional _and_ fashionable.” She heard Luka chuckle and her body relaxed a little. 

Picking up his shirt and jeans, Marinette wondered idly if his underwear was actually dry, or he was just too embarrassed to give it to her. Considering how thoroughly soaked his jeans were, probably the latter she mused, and then immediately banished any thoughts of Luka naked behind the curtain. Mostly. 

Instead of his white dress shirt, Marinette had made him a light grey dress shirt, which was hanging in the garment bag with the suit, vests, and accessories. As Marinette wrung out Luka’s wet pants and shirt over the sink, she heard the rustle of fabric as he pulled various items of clothing on. He’d stepped out from behind the curtain by the time she’d slipped his shirt into the clothes-press, a hiss of steam coming from the machine. Luka waited a few steps behind her as she ran it through twice more, before hanging it on a drying rack in front of the radiator. 

Turning to Luka she looked him up and down, then smiled to herself, nodding. “It looks good. How does it feel? Can you raise your arms?” Luka obliged by raising his arms above his head, holding them there as Marinette stepped forward to check the seams. She had him roll his shoulders and then cross his arms across his chest as she watched the pull and play of the fabric. Finally, she stepped back and nodded, and Luka let out a breath. 

“Ok, now I’m going to check out the pants. Can you take the jacket off for a moment?” Marinette was in full professional mode, watching the way the fabric stretched and moved, and absolutely not checking out Luka’s muscles as they bunched underneath it. He was able to squat and lunge with no difficulty, and Marinette managed to keep her mind out of the gutter, her hands fluttering over the pants in the same way they had his jacket. 

“Can you touch your toes for me? It’s the last thing I want to check.” She frowned as Luka froze and looked at her. “Please?” She added, unsure of his hesitancy. “Is the waist too tight?”

Shaking his head no, Luka let out a shaky sigh before bending and placing his hands flat on the floor. Marinette’s hands ghosted across the back of his thighs, barely making any contact, except where she paused to tug and straighten the fabric before they lightly slid over his hips and up to his waistband. 

“It looks good.” Marinette stepped back, and Luka let out a breath she hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Is it comfortable?”

He nodded, his face losing its half-stunned expression and shaping itself into something that almost resembled a smile. He turned and almost fled to the changing area when Marinette asked him to try on the other two vests. 

Marinette checked the fit on both, and while Luka took them off, Marinette ran his pants through the clothes press. Feeling the jeans and his shirt, she sighed. Both were still slightly damp, although warm, and much drier than before. Glancing around, her eyes fall on a box shoved back in the corner, under a pile of fabric. 

Grinning at Luka, she gives him a gentle nudge towards the curtain. “You go put on a pair of dry jeans. I know they’re not a fitted commission, but since we’re both here, I might as well check. I have an idea about a dry shirt for you, so you don’t have to wear the dress shirt all day. Before he can even pull the curtain closed, Marinette rushes over to the box, one of her earliest commissions for Jagged: screen printed t-shirts with her album design that she was allowed to sell in what had been at the time a fledgling web store. Brushing the dust off the box, she opened it up, digging through until she found a shirt in Luka’s size. Shaking it out, she walked over to the curtained area, letting Luka know she had a t-shirt for him. 

She’d planned to just toss it over the top, but the curtain in front of her pulled back, and Luka stood there in his socks, brand new MDC jeans and not much else. Marinette fought to keep her mouth from dropping open, but couldn’t help the word that passed between her lips as her eyes took in the broad expanse of chest in front of her. “Nice,” she breathed. 

She glanced at his face as his eyebrows rose, and a blush stained his cheeks, and mentally smacked herself. Pulling herself together forcibly, she managed to add, “the jeans seem to fit perfectly. I don’t think you’ll need any adjustment. How do they feel?”

The blush on Luka’s face deepened, and he nodded at her, running a hand across his chest self consciously, drawing Marinette’s eyes back to the muscles there. Luka was lean, but strong, and a life of hauling musical equipment around showed in his build. With a squeak, Marinette tossed the shirt to him and turned away before he could see the blush that was spreading across her own face. 

“They feel great.”

Marinette jumped, almost squeaking again as she realized Luka was answering the question she’d asked before she started ogling his chest. “I’m glad. The shirt is old but never worn. You’re welcome to keep it. I have lots more.” Flashing a grin much more confident than she actually felt over her shoulder, Marinette watched the play of Luka’s muscles as he pulled the shirt down over his head, turning away before he could catch her staring. 

~~~

Luka caught the t-shirt that Marinette tossed to him, and studied it, recognizing it from one of Jagged Stone’s tours several years before. He grinned realizing Marinette must have been the one to make them. She’d designed several of his album covers when she was younger, he remembered hearing that somewhere, and it made sense that she had made the tour shirts as well. 

He finally remembered to answer her question as he tugged the t-shirt over his head, relieved to be covered once again. Not particularly shy about his body, Luka had seen it splashed in too many magazines for that, he felt a little more vulnerable standing in front of someone he was very much attracted to, especially without his boxers. It was amazing how much a feeling of protection such a thin layer of cotton could provide. 

The shirt was snug, but fit well enough, and he tucked the ends into his jeans, before jamming his hands in his pockets as he looked up at Marinette. She was shuffling some papers on her desk before she picked up an envelope and handed it to him. “This is for you, for the jeans.” Her smile was bright as she handed him the envelope. “The studio is covering the suit and accessories. Did you have shoes to wear? Dress shoes, I mean, if not, I can make recommendations.” 

She was sweet, he thought, looking out for him, although maybe it would just reflect badly on her if he wore his Doc Martens. Or his Converse. Luka almost laughed out loud at the thought, but caught himself before the sound could escape. She had asked him something else. What was it? Oh yes… “I do have dress shoes, thank you, though. Although should I need new ones at any point in the future, may I still seek your recommendations?”

Marinette frowned slightly but nodded. “Is there anything else that you wanted from me right now?”

Luka’s mind went straight into the gutter. There were _a lot_ of things that he wanted from this gorgeous, kind, talented woman right now, none of which he should be thinking about as he stood here in her place of business. His smile was a little strained as he shook his head, trying to think of something else she could make him, so he’d have another excuse to visit her. “I think I’m all set on clothes right now.”

Surprisingly, her smile brightened. “Then, since you’re no longer my client, or least you won’t be once you’ve paid your bill.” She nodded to the envelope in his hand, “Did you, um, want to get coffee with me sometime?”

His heart started galloping in his chest. _She had been serious?_ “Yes,” he said a little breathless. I would love to grab coffee with you.” He reached for his back pocket and his heart skipped a beat when he realized that his wallet wasn’t there. His head snapped around until his gaze snagged on his damp jacket hanging by the door. Oh, right. He wasn’t wearing the same pants he’d come in with. He hurried over and snatched his wallet from where it was drying out next to his phone on the chair in the curtained dressing room. Groping blindly for his credit card, he pulled it out and hurried back over, holding it out towards Marinette. 

She gave him a strange look, even as the beautiful sound of her laughter bubbled up. Her giggles grew and turned into a full-on laugh as she pulled up an app on her tablet and entered his credit card information. He signed it woodenly, and handed the tablet back to her, then pocketed his card and his wallet. Putting the tablet back on her desk, Marinette turned to smile at him. “Can I get your phone number? Then we can set something up?”

A sharp sting of disappointment shot through his chest that she didn’t want to go out with him right then, but she eased it with a soft smile. “I have another client coming in later today,” she apologized. Luka barely had time to process her words before she had pushed up on her toes to place a soft kiss on his cheek. The roaring returned full force in his head, and his heart started trying to beat its way out of his chest. “Make sure they’re wearing underwear.”

Oh no, did he just say that out loud? A glance at Marinette’s stunned expression told him that he had before she tipped her head back and laughed. This wasn’t a giggle, but a full belly laugh that had her wrapping her arms around her middle and tears running down her face. Her legs gave way under her and she dropped to the edge of the little podium she had clients stand on during their fittings, body shaking and gasping for air. 

When she’d finally calmed down, and his mortified blush had mostly subsided, Marinette wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Oh Luka, of course she will. She’s coming to be fitted for her wedding dress!” An adorable snort and Marinette was giggling again, before she paused and looked up at him, her eyes huge and endlessly blue. “Wait… does that mean you _aren’t_?” 

Luka was certain that his blush was all the confirmation she needed.

The rain had slowed enough that a dash to the metro station wouldn’t soak him to the skin, and Marinette waved to him as he darted through the rain to the subway entrance half a block away. He sighed to himself, unable to wipe the lovesick smile from his face, and knowing that he needed to before getting home, or else Juleka would never let him hear the end of it. 

He managed not to text her until he was sitting on the train, and he pulled out his phone to check his calendar. 

**_LC:_ ** _Tues Thurs Fri next week work_  
**_MDC:_ ** _Not T/Th_  
**_MDC:_ ** _Can do coffee Fri_  
**_MDC:_ ** _or lunch Wed?_  
**_LC:_ ** _W is good_  
**_LC:_ ** _Its a date_  
**_MDC:_ ** _OK. That hole in the wall by the studio J loves?_  
**_LC:_ ** _Cafe Sass?_  
**_LC:_ ** _13:00?_  
**_MDC:_ ** _see u there :wink:_

Luka sighed again as he tucked his phone back in his pocket. He couldn’t wait to get the chance to sit and talk with Marinette, ask her about herself, and get to know her better. He was thrilled that she’d asked him out but nervous that he wasn’t going to live up to her expectations. His plan had been to keep commissioning her for clothes so that he had an excuse to keep going back to see her. He liked hers better.

Unfortunately for him, Luka was still smiling as he stepped through the door to Juleka’s apartment, and she pounced when she saw him, taking in the new shirt, garment bag, as well as the plastic bag full of clothes, with his underwear sitting on top. Luka groaned. Juleka _smirked_.


	6. Can we try that again?

Luka couldn’t focus on anything Wednesday morning. He was in the kitchen, making himself an omelet when Juleka walked by, smacking him in the back of the head. At his confused look, she silently pointed to the uneaten bowl of cereal on the coffee table. His sheepish look grew as she walked into the bathroom and brought him back a plate of toast, and then leveled him with a look. “You really like her, don’t you?” Juleka’s voice was soft but clear, and Luka nodded in reply.

“I really do, Jule. I don’t want to screw this up. And we’re heading out on tour again in the new year which gives me maybe three months with her?” Luka ran his hands through his hair and leaned forwards until his elbows rested on the countertop. Juleka walked past him to turn the burner under the eggs off before wrapping one arm around him, and in a show of affection, kissing the top of his head. 

“It’ll be alright, Lu. She’s sweet. Just talk to her. You’re a good guy and deserve to be happy. Go and have fun with her. Let Future Luka worry about what happens when you go on tour.” She grinned at him with a knowing smile, the way only a sibling can. “You could be married by then.”

The glare he leveled at her went completely ignored. “I’m just saying, Lu, that you don’t know what’s gonna happen, so don’t worry about it. Just promise me one thing?” Luka looked at his sister, waiting for her to continue. “Try not to throw up on her, Ok? I know how you are when you get nervous.”

She danced away before Luka could swat at her, and her laughter did as much to calm his nerves as her words had. His baby sister was happy and happy for him, and that meant a lot. At the studio that morning, Luka couldn’t settle on any one thing. He was immensely relieved that he was just there to create, rather than trying to record anything otherwise, he was pretty sure his producer would have hit him with something by now. He just needed to play, to get himself out of his head, so Luka sat back, closed his eyes, and just let his fingers move across the guitar. The sound of his nervousness echoing from the guitar strings weirdly helped ease his nerves, and when his alarm went off at 12:30, he was _almost_ calm. 

Smiling to himself, Luka packed away his guitar, tucking his notebook in the pocket, and locked the practice room behind him as made his way to Cafe Sass. 

He arrived a few minutes before 13:00, and glanced around. The place was light and airy, plants hanging everywhere, the walls hung with the work of local artists. Music played softly in the background, frequently an eclectic mix, primarily local artists, many of whom were from Jagged’s studio down the road. His eyes fell on a figure in the corner, dark hair loose about her shoulders, hunched over a notebook that rested on the table, scribbling furiously. He watched Marinette for a few moments, taking in the white earbuds and soft pink sundress that she’d topped with a red cardigan in deference to the weather. Her black leather jacket was hanging over the back of the chair, and her foot was tapping as she worked, although he wasn’t sure whether it was in time to the music in her ears or the scratch of her pencil across the page. 

Approaching their table, Luka tried to rid his face of the smile he knew kept threatening to break through as he watched her. When his shadow fell across her notebook, she looked up, and a smile broke across her face. She closed the notebook before he could get a good look at it with an apologetic look. “Sorry. Work stuff,” she said with a shrug of one shoulder as she tucked the sketchbook into the bag at her feet. 

Pushing her chair back, she stood and went up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, her hands resting gently on his chest to balance herself. Luka bent to return her cheek kiss, keeping his hands fisted at his sides so that he wouldn’t touch her and not let go. He could feel her cheek raise under his lips as she smiled at his touch. “How’s your day been going?” she asked, stepping back, her fingertips still resting lightly against his forearms. 

He sighed and Marinette frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I promise. I’ve just not been able to focus much today.” He grinned at her, ruefully. “Too nervous, I guess.” When her frown deepened, he hastened to add, “and excited, too!”

“I scare you?” Marinette looked a little sad.

“You’re gorgeous, talented, and way out of my league. Hell yeah you scare me.”

The frown disappeared from Marinette’s face, as she beamed at him. “Does it make it better or worse if I’ve been spending my morning figuring out ways to see if you want to kiss me?”

Luka’s eyes dropped to her mouth, before flicking back up to hers and he swallowed, hard. “I’m not sure. But the answer is yes. I would very much like to kiss you.”

He didn’t think it was possible, but Marinette’s smile grew even brighter. She pushed up on her toes, once again, this time brushing a soft kiss to his lips. His hands slid to her hips, both holding her to him and grounding himself so that he didn’t sink completely into her. A stomach growling broke them apart, but whether it was hers or his, Luka wasn’t sure. 

Marinette giggled, and they sat down at the table, Marinette’s hand cradled in his. Luka’s thumb brushed across her knuckles as he watched her talking, her face animated, her free arm gesticulating as she told a story about how one of her clients had flown her to Moscow for a fashion emergency. When she’d arrived there, less than 12 hours after the initial panicked phone call, she learned that the big emergency was that he’d spilled food on his jacket. However, when he’d taken it off, his pet had been attracted by the smell of herring and onion that permeated the stained jacket, and taken a large bite out of it. Rather than wearing one of the other outfits that he’d brought with him, the man had rushed her out to him to make a replacement. 

His mouth dropped open. “That was you?”

Her brow furrowed as she looked up as he explained. “It was my first tour with Jagged. I was on a songwriting tear, inspired by the amazing new places. I ran into a woman in the hallway in the middle of the night, standing in front of an ice maker trying to get it to make coffee.”

A blush bloomed over her cheeks. “That was _you_? You handed me your coffee, and said you thought I needed it more.”

Luka laughed. “Well you did!”

“Probably true.” He could hear the laughter in her voice. “Jagged had me make that whole damn jacket over again, and only wore it for another three weeks.” She pouted, but there was no real heat in her eyes, and Luka couldn’t take his eyes off of her lower lip as it jutted out. 

He could see the idea as it dawned on her, breaking across her face as she lit up. “So, I guess I still owe you a coffee. Can I buy you one sometime?”

Grinning, Luka nodded. “I have a gig Friday night, just a small one.” When her eyebrows shot up, he laughed. “Open mike night, under a fake name. I love it. I generally do covers and test out new songs that way. Would you like to come?”

Marinette nodded her agreement. “I’d love to. Text me the details?”

Promising he would, Luka nodded to the earbuds that now dangled around Marinette’s neck. “What were you listening to? You seemed very in the zone.”

Laughing, Marinette handed over the earbuds, and Luka tucked them into his ears. She lowered the volume before pressing play, and Luka’s eyes widened. “LOVEBITES? I didn’t know you were into Japanese metal. Most people won’t listen if they don’t know what they’re saying.”

"I don't need to speak their language to _speak their language_ , Couffaine. Besides, can anyone actually understand the lyrics to a heavy metal song no matter what language it’s in?”

The mouthful of water Luka had just taken came right back out of his nose, and Marinette managed to avoid the worst of the spray. Hopping up, she ran around to pat Luka on the back while he coughed up the rest of the water. A waiter came over with a towel to clear up the mess, and Luka felt that his mortification was complete.

Having mostly managed to control her laughter, Marinette’s hand lingered on his back, even after his coughing stopped. She reached up with her other hand, cupping his cheek. “Are you OK, Luka?”

He could only nod as he looked down into her worried eyes, looking longer than he knew was polite, but debating whether or not to kiss her again, or if she would even still want to after all of this. He lowered his head slowly, giving her time to back away, but she leaned up to meet him, and her little gasp when their lips met had him tugging her against him. Fortunately for his lust-addled brain, Marinette still had some sense of propriety, because she was pulling back way too soon. When he tried to chase her mouth, she simply giggled, putting one hand on his chest, and whispered “later”. His mind went hazy with all the things that could imply, and he stepped back, dropping into his chair with a blush staining his cheeks. 

As if aware that he needed a minute to compose himself, Marinette chatted away about a project that she was working on for a showcase, rather than a runway show. Luka tried to pay attention, but he kept being distracted by thoughts of what exactly she had meant by “later”. In his imagination, he conjured up a scenario where he was as calm and unruffled as she was, taking her back to his, _ok Juleka’s_ house, where they would sit on the couch, and she could tell him her dreams and ambitions while he held her in his arms and kissed her until she agreed to marry him. And then Juleka would walk in and yell at him for being gross on her couch. Luka groaned and dropped his head into his hands. He couldn’t even be smooth in his own fantasy.

A warm hand on his forearm had him looking up at Marinette. The real one who’d been telling him all about her real projects, not the fantasy one who’d been kissing him stupid. “Is everything alright?” He hated that he’d put that concerned look on her face. “If you don’t want to be here, we can just walk away with no hard feelings. It seems like I always put you on edge, and I don’t want to be a reason you’re anxious.”

Luka sighed and looked around at the cafe. People kept shooting glances at them, but he wasn’t sure if it was because people recognized him, or because of the scene he’d made earlier. Opening his mouth to speak, no words came out, so he cleared his throat and tried again. Still nothing. Marinette smiled a wobbly smile at him, and reached for the oversized purse she’d stuffed her sketchbook into. He watched as she pulled out her wallet and tucked several bills under her mug before standing up and heading for the door. He wasn’t sure what was happening, until she pulled open the front door of the cafe, and stepped into the afternoon sunshine. 

~~~

She’d made it almost half a block when she heard Luka’s voice behind her. “Wait. Please wait, Marinette.” Turning she saw Luka loping towards her, looking sad and nervous and just a little bit wild. When he caught up with her, he just stood there looking at her for a few moments before raising his head and looking around. Wrapping his hand around her wrist, he tugged gently, directing rather than ordering her to follow him, as he headed towards a quiet, tree-lined alley. Once they were a few meters down the road, Luka turned towards her once again, gently pressing her against the wall of the building.

His mouth met hers, and if the gentle press of his lips had melted her earlier, this kiss, firm and wanting and tinged with desperation set her on fire. Her hands wrapped around his neck, fingers toying with the ends of his shaggy black hair, even as he gripped her hips, his body pressed against hers. When he pulled back, they were both panting, and Marinette knew her eyes were wide with surprise as she stared at him. 

Abruptly stepping back from her, Luka tugged at the ends of his hair and groaned. “I’m so sorry, Marinette. I just didn’t want you thinking… if you want to leave that’s fine… I shouldn’t have…”

Reaching out to place a hand against his arm, she offered him a slightly dazed smile. “Luka, it’s fine. Let’s go find somewhere we can sit and talk.” Pointing at a small park at the end of the alleyway, Marinette slipped her hand into Luka’s and lead him to a bench under a large tree. She sat, tugging him down next to her before she turned her body to face him, covering their joined hands with her other one. “Talk to me, Luka. What’s going on.”

Luka took a deep breath, placing his other hand over their three hands, making Marinette smile. She watched as he blew out a shaking breath, momentarily closing his eye to compose himself, before opening them again, completely capturing her in his ocean blue gaze. “You have got to be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” Marinette’s cheeks pinked at his soft words and earnest tone. “But it’s more than that. You’re smart and talented, and incredibly kind, and I’m just a guy with a guitar. You are so amazing, and I’m just me, and I’m just so scared of screwing this up. I really like you, Marinette.”

Her heart both soared and broke at his words, slipping one hand out of his to cup his cheek, forcing him to look at her, when his eyes were wandering everywhere else. “You are so much more than a hot guy with a guitar. You have so much talent. Your music speaks to people, it moves them. It makes them smile, and it makes them cry. With enough practice anyone can play the notes, but only you can make us feel them.”

Taking a shaky breath, Luka went to say something, but Marinette held up a hand to forestall him. “You forget that I know Juleka. She’s often spoken about how much she worries for you. That you’re always trying to take care of those around you and forgetting to take care of yourself. I’ve seen those kindnesses firsthand.” The hand on his cheek slid down to his chest. “I really like you, too, Luka. I’d love to try this date again, either now, or another day if you aren’t feeling up to it.”

She wrapped her arms around him, and they just clung to each other for a few minutes. Marinette breathed in his scent, a combination of fresh air, coffee, the acrid tang of what had to be some kind of guitar cleaner and some kind of cheese cracker. Goldfish, maybe? Luka was the first to pull back, and she reluctantly let him go. He placed a kiss on her temple, and just sat there, smiling at her, his larger hand engulfing hers. 

“OK, can you just, can you wait right here for a moment.” Luka’s voice was nervous, but he smiled down at her, so Marinette nodded as he stood. Walking to the edge of the main path, he stopped, his face in profile, and took a deep breath, his eyes closed. 

When he turned back towards her, he was smiling softly, his stride purposeful, and Marinette got a glimpse of the Luka Couffaine she’d seen once on stage and hundreds of times in various videos and recordings of his shows. He turned up the wattage of his smile as he approached, pausing in front of her and offering a slight bow. 

“Hi. I’m Luka Couffaine and you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Would you like to get a coffee with me?”

Marinette stifled her urge to laugh, but her eyes sparkled as she looked up at him. “It’s very nice to meet you, M. Couffaine. My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I would love to go and get coffee with you.” He held his hand out towards her, and she stood, slipping her hand into his. Squeezing it lightly, Luka smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the movement, and Marinette leaned into him as they walked. “I hear there is a very fancy coffee place around here. Cafe Nox I believe it’s called.”

Luka snorted, an undignified sound that made Marinette’s heart flutter in her chest. “Honestly, there’s this great little joint a few blocks down on the corner. Much better coffee, although it’s their pastries that they are known for. They really are the best I’ve ever had.”

As if on cue, Marinette’s stomach grumbled, and they both laughed. “That sounds wonderful.” She grinned at him. “What’s it called?”

“No idea,” Luka replied with a half shrug and a lopsided grin. Marinette laughed again, turning her head to press a quick kiss to his shoulder. She inhaled and smiled. Not goldfish she decided, smiling to herself. definitely Cheez-Its.

Luka pressed a soft kiss to the top of Marinette’s head, then tugged at their joined hands. “Come on, it’s right over here.” 

She followed him to the edge of the park, smiling as he pointed to a tall white building with a black and gold sign out front. Marinette realized with a start that there wasn’t a name on the front of the building, just the familiar T&S logo she’d created at age thirteen. She looked at Luka’s excited face, and, laughing, pushed open the front door of the shop.


	7. New Beginnings

Luka had been mortified when Marinette had greeted the woman behind the bakery counter as “Maman”, and rushed over to hug her, but he’d adapted pretty quickly, laughing and joking with both her parents, although when her father’s questions had become a little too pointed, and his gaze a little too rapturous, she’d made an excuse and extracted Luka from their well-meaning clutches. Her dad had only had time to press _one_ box of goodies into Luka’s hands before she’d ushered him out of there. 

The next couple of weeks had been a whirlwind of dates and kisses and time spent curled up in her apartment, running movies that they ignored, or sharing space while they created individually. They’d each been so wrapped up in their work that they’d missed a date, but when they’d talked about it, neither was upset. The next time Marinette was late, Luka, who’d been waiting at a restaurant down the street, ordered some food to go and took it to her studio. She had been extremely grateful, and when Luka had pulled out his guitar to work on something that had been buzzing in the back of his brain, they’d spent the evening together in her workshop. 

He looked up from where he’d been playing, and watched as her pencil danced its way across her sketchbook. Once it stilled, Luka pulled her attention to him. “Hey, Marinette?”

“Hmm?” Her eyes focused on him as her brain resurfaced. 

“You’re coming to the Music Gala with me, right?” 

She grinned at him. “Maybe. Depends if I’m invited or not.”

Luka sighed heavily. “Marinette, will you please come to the Music Gala with me?”

Marinette’s grin turned wicked. “And me without a thing to wear!” She fanned herself and rolled her eyes. “Actually, I’ve been working on this dress…” Breaking off, she quickly closed her notebook, turning her full attention on Luka. He smiled up at her, his face lighting like the sun, and she came over to kiss him. She’d met this man barely a month ago, and she couldn’t imagine spending her days without him. She ran her fingers through his hair just to watch the way he tipped his head back, eyes closed, smile soft at the sensation. 

She had several gala-worthy dresses to her name. Being a designer, it was important to always look the part, and she’d attended quite a few industry gatherings that were black tie, but she wanted something special for the gala with Luka. She’d been sketching something since the day she’d met him, when he’d stumbled through her front door, all restless energy, and nervous glances. They’d only been dating a few weeks, three, not quite four, but it seemed as if they’d been together for years. Her heart fluttered at his looks, but there was a quiet comfort in being near him that put Marinette more at peace than she’d been in years.

The dress she’d designed while thinking about Luka was almost complete. She’d half expected him to invite her to the gala, and if he’d planned on taking someone else (most likely Juleka or another musician the studio wanted to introduce) or going alone, she would have been fine with that. Or so she’d been telling herself. The relief she felt when he’d asked her made her feel a little guilty, but she pushed that down.

Luka kissed her goodnight, soft and sweet and slowly, just as he always did, after walking her home that night. He’d smiled up at her, from where she stood, two steps off the sidewalk, his smile still shy, and told her how glad he was that she’d be coming to the gala with him that next weekend. She’d rushed back down the stairs for another kiss before unlocking the door to her building and watching him slouch off down the street, hands in his pockets, a soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth. 

The dress that Marinette had made was one of her favorites, and not just because it made her think of Luka, so when she topped the full, ocean blue lace skirt with a corset made of her favorite black leather, she felt a swell of confidence grow within her. She’d been to industry parties before, and this one was no different. It wasn’t her industry, that was true, but she still knew people, many of them were her customers, after all, and Marinette was there to have fun, and support Luka. 

Luka was one of those people in the industry that everyone liked. He was soft-spoken and hard-working, not the stereotypical star, but one that could play his own music as easily as someone else's, and never complained about either. He was kind and thoughtful, and Marinette was more dazzled by the man she’d come to know over this past month than she had ever been by _Luka Couffaine, Rock Star_.

Juleka was coming to the Gala, too. She’d started dating a tiny pixie of a woman with a set of lungs that could blow out speakers, someone who was poised to make it big on the rock charts, and Juleka had offered to help Marinette with her hair and makeup if Marinette could help Juleka with the clothes. She’d quickly agreed, already liking the other woman, even before she’d known Luka. Marinette left her hair down in soft waves, and Juleka applied their makeup like the expert she was. 

“Rose is going to drool when she sees you in that dress. You’re a stunning woman, Juleka.” Marinette smiled at her friend as Juleka stood to pace for the third time in ten minutes. The studio had planned to provide a car each for both Luka and Rose, but they’d said they would ride together with their dates. Penny had signed off on the plan, and the car with the two musicians was due to arrive any moment. She had just opened her mouth to say as much to Juleka when the doorbell rang. She buzzed Luka and Rose into the building and turned to smile at Juleka. “You ready?”

Nodding, Juleka conjured up a weak smile, but when Marinette opened the apartment door to the pink-haired pixie with the body-skimming, rainbow silk dress, Juleka’s smile became genuine. When Rose’s mouth fell open and then she squealed with excitement, Juleka’s face lit up. “Oh! Juleka! You look _amazing_!” Rose ran across the room, as fast as the tight dress and four-inch heels would allow, and threw her arms around Juleka. Marinette smiled as she watched them and then turned to see Luka standing in the doorway. 

~~~

Luka had looked at his sister, and the way Rose lit up when she’d seen her, and his heart swelled with joy at their happiness. Then Marinette had stepped into his field of view, and the rest of the world had disappeared. Her outfit was a rock fantasy of ocean blue silk and black leather, artistic rips in the tattered overskirt showing the darker, richer layer beneath. The black leather corset that made up the top of the dress had metallic embroidery in it, the same color as the silken underlayer. Marinette looked absolutely glorious. He couldn’t help staring, and as much as he wanted to race to Marinette the way that Rose had raced to his sister, Luka’s feet felt rooted to the spot. 

He wanted to touch her. That was the only thought swirling through his mind. He wanted to touch her and kiss her and show her just how amazing he thought she was. Desperation tinged his urge to touch her, to make sure she was real, and not just some fantasy his brain had concocted, but he was almost afraid to touch her and shatter the illusion, the spell, she had cast on him.

Marinette had no such qualms, however, grabbing his hand and pulling him from the hallway into her apartment before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him thoroughly. His hands came up automatically to pull her closer, the hand on her back encountering nothing but skin, making him groan. It was Juleka’s soft “eww” that had him remembering that they were not alone, and while Rose was beaming at them, Juleka was sporting an exaggerated look of disgust. As Rose tugged her girlfriend towards the door, Juleka paused to murmur in his ear, but loud enough for everyone to hear, “I know I said you should get laid, Dumbass, but I don’t want to watch it happen.” She then swept out of the room, admonishing them both, “don’t be too long, and don’t forget to fix your lipstick.”

Looking back at Marinette, he could feel the blush staining his cheeks, but she just pulled his mouth back to hers. Luka sank into the kiss, keeping his hands on her fully-fabric-covered hips as he held her against him. Pulling back, Marinette stepped to the mirror to check her lipstick, as Juleka had instructed, and Luka took a few calming breaths. When she returned, Marinette grinned up at him, running a thumb over his lower lip. “This stuff Juleka gave me is great, it didn’t come off!” She winked at him. “Means I can kiss you like that all night!”

Luka groaned. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” Marinette kissed his cheek and winked at him in reply, nudging him towards the door. 

The party itself was everything that Luka expected and feared it would be. The noise he could handle, he was used to loud music, but the crush of people made him nervous. Marinette stuck by his side, her hand casually wrapped around his arm, but offering a gentle squeeze whenever he needed grounding. He smiled at her, eternally grateful for her presence. Juleka usually offered the same level of comfort, she understood how hard this kind of environment was for him, but she had disappeared into the crowd with Rose, and Luka didn’t want to hold her back. 

He spoke to lots of people he knew, and many more whose names he would never remember, a fake smile plastered on his face and Marinette by his side. He introduced her to everyone, both as his girlfriend and as a designer, and her dress had already garnered the attention of several people in the room who promised to contact her in the future. 

As his patience for glad-handing was wearing thin, Marinette managed to snag a small tray of canapes from a table and disappeared out of the ballroom. Luka followed her, thankful that they were in a hotel that had lots of places where he could step aside and catch his breath. Winking at him, Marinette glanced around and hurried him over to the bank of elevators, before pushing the button for the roof. Marinette handed him the tray as she shrugged into her leather jacket that she’d snagged from somewhere before they’d headed up. It was warm for November, so Luka would be comfortable in his suit jacket, but with all the skin that Marinette had exposed, from her back all the way down her bare arms, she wouldn’t be able to stay out for long. 

The thought flitted through his mind that he could have offered her his suit jacket, he wouldn’t mind seeing his clothes on her but decided to appreciate her practicality. He watched her, offering his hand to her instead of the tray when she reached to reclaim it and was rewarded by a soft peck on the cheek. She pulled back when the doors opened and led the way to a relatively secluded area. 

There were not many people here on the public part of the roof. There was a pool, but it was too cold to swim, and a smaller area where green things were growing. It was to the little garden section that Marinette had taken him, and they stood by a table, gently leaning into each other as they looked over the Paris skyline, picking their way through the food. 

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Luka said softly, “It’s moments like this that make all the insanity down there worth it. I’ve spoken with all the right people and said all the right things, and now I get to stand out here in the quiet, overlooking the city where I grew up, with the most amazing woman at the party standing by my side.” Turning to Marinette, he leaned down to softly lay his lips against hers. The kiss was quiet and undemanding, and she closed her eyes and just leaned into him. “I love you, Marinette.”

Her eyes popped open at that, wide and searching, but he saw no trace of panic in them. She sighed happily and turned so she could lean into his chest. “I love you too, Luka.”

His smile was soft as he looked at her face, wondering if it was too soon to talk about his upcoming tour and the fact that he would have to leave for almost a year. Idly, he wondered if she would marry him before he left. Juleka had joked about that when he’d first fallen head over heels for Marinette, but he hadn’t taken her seriously. Now he wondered if her words had been prophetic. 

Instead, he cleared his throat and changed the topic. “This suit truly is amazing. Fashionable and comfortable. Even my sister approves.” 

Marinette’s smile was radiant as she looked up at him. “We’ll make a fashionista out of you yet.”

His surprised laugh rolled across the empty rooftop as he shook his head. “Highly unlikely, but you can dress me whenever you like.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, and he lowered his voice and leaned in. “Or undress me, too, for that matter.” 

This time it was Marinette’s laugh that rang out. “Luka Couffaine, when did you get so smooth?”

He waggled his eyebrows at her, and she snickered again, leaning up to press a kiss against his mouth. Luka’s arms immediately banded around her, pulling her flush against him, groaning as she wrapped her arms around his neck to toy with his hair. Marinette slid one hand down his chest and across his abdomen before she hooked one finger into the waistband of his pants and gently tugged. He gasped against her mouth and broke the not-entirely-appropriate-for-such-a-public-place kiss. Marinette winked at him, even as he tried to catch his breath. Her smile transformed from wicked to soft, and she started dropping little kisses along his jawline. He let out a soft moan as his head tilted back, and the kisses turned into little nips. 

His hands tightened on her hips and her breath puffed out in a laugh. “You said you’ve talked to everyone that you need to. Want to get out of here?” Her lips brushed his neck as she spoke, and he couldn’t help tilting his head to kiss her again.

 _Breath. Why was it so important?_ Luka wanted to just keep kissing Marinette, and he must have said the thought out loud because she laughed and pushed him back, even as his mouth chased hers. 

“You know, my place is only a few blocks away. We should definitely get out of here.”

Luka shook his head, even as he tried to pull her back to him. “Jagged got us all rooms. I’m like 2 floors down.” 

Marinette kissed him hard and then yanked away. “Let’s go.” She tugged at him to get him moving, but then let Luka lead the way to his room. They paused at the door while Luka reached into his jacket pocket for his key card, and Marinette pressed him into the door, tugging at his tie, pulling his mouth down to hers. Luka moaned and melted into her, fumbling with the card, even as Marinette speared her fingers into his hair. 

The door swung open behind him, and they stumbled into the room, breaking apart so they didn’t bang their heads together. Marinette grinned up at him, completely breathless, cheeks pink, and eyes sparkling. “I was right, you look amazing in this suit. Now take it off.”

Pulling her close, Luka smiled down at Marinette, brushing a strand of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. He leaned down, and lips brushing the shell of her ear whispered, “I’m wearing underwear this time.”

Marinette burst out laughing, her whole body shaking as she reached out and gave the door a shove, the automatic lock engaging as soon as it closed. She collapsed against Luka, still laughing and trying to catch her breath, even as Luka blushed brightly, realizing what exactly he’d said. As her giggles subsided, Marinette hooked her fingers in the waistband of his pants, tugging him further into the room. “Don’t worry, Dork, I can take care of those, too.”


End file.
